


forget about your foolish pride (take me to the other side)

by sapphickisses (NoncanonGirlfriend)



Category: Archer (Cartoon)
Genre: Car Sex, Choking, Drunk Sex, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-13 00:45:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9098059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoncanonGirlfriend/pseuds/sapphickisses
Summary: There's a first time for everything.





	

**Author's Note:**

> alternate title: Beyonce's Partition playing in the background- the fic 
> 
> takes place somewhere in the earlier seasons, after Lana breaks up with Cyril but before Ray's paralyzed or after he gets bionic legs, you choose... because i've been watching it non-stop this week and can't remember in what order things happen anymore. the title is from Aerosmith's 'The Other Side'
> 
> also it's pretty much entirely consensual but just to be safe i added that tag

"Cyril?"

"Yes, Ray?"

Ray swirls the contents of his martini glass, staring bleakly at the absurdly neon pink liquid that Pam produced from a flask hidden in her bra a few hours into their bar night. He glances up at Cyril, who's drunkenly playing with his glasses, folding his fingers over the earpieces and flicking them back and forth by the temple, and in that moment Ray decides: fuck rules, he's drunk and horny and is going to bang the ever-living daylights out of Cyril.

"Y'ever been with a guy before?"

Cyril starts, stammering slightly, "Well, not- not exactly. Might've kissed a guy once or twice?"

Ray snorts. "That's it? Really?"

"Well, what do you mean?" Cyril frowns.

"I dunno, I assumed you would've been more experienced, what with your sex addiction and all-"

"It's not an addiction!" One of Archer's several empty bourbon bottles rattles when Cyril slams his hand down on the sticky table, his other elbow resting in a pile of drenched napkins.

Ray scoffs again and sets his suspicious-looking drink down. "Alright." He waits a beat, tapping his nails on his knee, "Wanna get outta here?"

"Sure."

~~~

The door slams behind them, leaving drained pitchers of beer and passed-out coworkers in the bar along with Ray's sensibilities. Through the haze of night and blurred streetlamps Ray notices a familiar car parked next to the sidewalk- a car that, to his surprise, clicks open with a turn of the keys that he finds in his pocket. 

"Huh," he murmurs, fumbling at the handle.

Cyril practically shoves him in, shutting the door behind him and reaching up into the front seat, straining to hit the light under the mirror. Its dim glow combined with the orange lamplight from outside barely illuminates the two of them, awkwardly spread out on the rich leather of what Ray hopes to God is his car. 

"So when you... asked earlier-" Cyril gestures vaguely, running his hands through his hair in a way that Ray'll later describe as 'down-right adorable' to Lana.

"Yeah?" Ray thankfully finds a pack of cigarettes left in his suit jacket and produces one. Cyril watches as he pats down his chest in hopes of a lighter, which is soon found somewhere on Ray's person.

"Just because I haven't, doesn't mean I wouldn't, y'know, be willing to try-" 

Ray stifles a laugh by taking a drag off his cigarette.

"Cyril, honey..."

"Mhm?"

He blows smoke directly in Cyril's face.

~~~

"God, you are good at that," Ray slurs, his cigarette ashing and leaving marks on the expensive flooring, his free hand gripping at Cyril's hair. He groans slightly when Cyril stops for a moment, resting his head on Ray's thigh, hands somewhere between his own legs. The cigarette falls from his lips to leave a final smear on the car's interior as he croons to Cyril, "Did I say you could stop?"- the butt is already crushed beneath his feet by the time Cyril is coughing out a "No, Sir," not that Ray'd ever admit it under the morning sun but damn if that doesn't do it for him.

"Then don't." The command, plus a slight push of Ray's hand, has Cyril's mouth back around Ray's dick in no time.

It's not that Ray has a thing, per se, for being in control, but they're already doin' it in a car that may or may not be his, he's wasted, it's 3:00 AM and Cyril Figgis is pretty. He's a dork and a loser, but- Ray moans and tightens his grip on Cyril's hair- he's pretty and willing to get into Ray's pants, which is about all it takes these days.

Suddenly the wet warmth of Cyril's tongue is doing much less work and Cyril is sighing as well, a situation Ray is not very happy with.

"Are you fuckin' jackin' off?" Ray hisses, sitting up to kick at Cyril, swatting his hands away using his foot.

"...Yes?"

"Oh, for Christ's- listen, you can't be blowing me and then just decide you wanna jack it!" Cyril groans slightly when Ray pushes his shoe onto Cyril's crotch, rubbing through the fabric enough to make Cyril whimper before stopping. 

"I'm sorry, it just feels weird- with a man-" Cyril blunders, "I've never done this kind of thing before-"

"Really? 'Cause I would've never guessed from the way you-"

"Lana and I did it with a strap-on sometimes!" He blurts out in confession, immediately looking regretful. 

"Yeah, well, this isn't a strap-on, with a pussy underneath, this is a real dick- a man's dick- that you're sucking!"

"I know, it just, I don't know," Cyril looks up at him, face pink and shirt buttons undone, his stupid sweater vest lost somewhere in the back, spit coating his lips, and the precome leaking onto Ray's suit threatens to become a lot more than that.

Ray harshly shushes him. "Don't talk."

Cyril obeys.

~~~

Ray's mouth is on what he assumes is Cyril's neck, maybe his shoulder, biting down in a messy attempt to leave hickeys that ends with drool and possibly blood. He can't see for shit, Cyril's hands are on his ass, his own clasping Cyril's waist as well as he can. Both of them have already come once, which would normally be enough for Ray- obviously not for Cyril, as he's desperately moving Ray's hips, trying to get him to grind on his thigh, now Ray is on top of Cyril who sits up on the luxurious hide of the car's seats. 

"Ray?" Cyril asks tentatively.

Ray slaps Cyril's hand away and pulls up for a moment, "What?"

"Can you choke me?"

He almost sputters. "What, like Cheryl? The fuck's wrong with you?"

Cyril blushes, not like Ray can see in the dark but he can tell from how Cyril answers, "Yeah- like Cheryl-"

A thrill runs through Ray, it's certainly been a while since he's choked or been choked, not like he hasn't thought about gripping Cyril's shirt-collar until he's gasping for air before, but never in a sexual context. A car's passing headlights flash, for a split second bringing to surface the lust and slight fear that fills Cyril's face. 

"Sure thing, sugar," Ray carefully squeezes Cyril's neck in an experimental fashion, fingers running across the tight tendons, "sure thing."

~~~

Cyril coughs, figuratively hacking up a lung, shuddering beneath Ray when he finally lets go of his throat. 

"Did that hurt, baby?" Ray sounds breathless, despite not being the one almost blacking out not a minute earlier, and Cyril shakes his head in agreement.

"God, yes."

"But did you like it?"

"I-" Cyril pauses for a split second, "Yes, I did, I did like it-"

"Good, because there's more where that came from."

"Ray, I don't think I can-"

"Oh, sweetheart," Ray can feel the alcohol that he chugged right before stumbling out of the bar settling into his limbs, "I'm hard as a fuckin' rock, you're so cute, Cyril," he clumsily maneuvers to shove his hand down Cyril's pants, earning him a small yelp, "shit, I just wanna..." He loses his words, concentrating on rubbing on Cyril. 

Cyril settles into his touch, muttering words that get lost in his slow moans, something about 'yes' and 'sorry' and 'please'.

"Now," Ray pulls away at the last second, "I ain't doing this for free."

Cyril quickly makes eye contact with him, not-so-discreetly trying to get himself off by shifting his legs together, "What d'ya mean?"

"I mean you gotta beg," Ray almost feels giddy, his hand back on Cyril's gorgeous, bitten-up, slobbered-on, finger-bruised mess of a throat, "I want you to beg."

"Please, Ray-"

"Sir, Cyril," he whispers, flexing his hand tighter.

"Please, Sir, can you just- c'mon-" Cyril jerks forward and Ray pushes him back again. 

"No!"

Cyril croaks as best as he can, "I'll do anything, just let me-" and it's clear he's enjoying it, playing himself up for Ray, and fuck all if it isn't working. Ray feels ten years younger, having sloppy fucked-up sex where he shouldn't be, an experience he doesn't know how familiar Cyril is with. 

A sudden thought flashes across his mind of how regretful Cyril is going to be tomorrow morning, how hard he's gonna have to try to hide the marks Ray leaves, which is quickly followed by another realization, one that makes his hold shake and go slack, losing himself in a fit of laughter that nearly ruins the moment.

"Cyril," he wheezes, "Cyril, this is-" another burst of laughter that forces his words out in one big rush, "this is Archer's car!"

"What?" Cyril shuffles his feet, accommodating for Ray's shaking form.

"This is-! Look at the shitty, stupid-ass custom- This is Archer's car! I must've grabbed his keys on accident- We've been fucking in that idiot's car!" Ray can barely speak through hiccup-y giggles.

Cyril's jaw goes slack in shock before he too joins in Ray's drunken laughter. 

~~~

"Anyways, Lana, that's about it." Ray blows on his coffee, waiting for the drink to cool down.

Lana looks at a loss for words, eyebrows raised, not registering the hot mug in her hands. 

"You seriously-"

"Yes, we seriously!" He flicks a crumpled straw wrapper at her in frustration.

"In Archer's car?"

Ray snorts, "Yes! Now, do you need anymore clarification? I've got a killer headache and Pam's hogging the pain meds she found in Malory's desk." 

For what feels like a solid five minutes Lana stares at him before formulating an answer, "Never knew Cyril was into that."

"Who did?" Ray muses, and raises his thermos to take a sip.


End file.
